All These Things I've Done
by TerraChasma
Summary: Sometimes it feels like loss is the only constant in Evan's life. With the weight of loneliness hanging over his head, it's hard to remember he's not the only one suffering. Dylan's hurting too, only she keeps her tears hidden within the scars, and her pain runs deeper than anybody knows.


**All These Things I've Done**

* * *

_Words can make a deeper scar than silence can heal._

_-Anonymous_

* * *

**This is a rewrite of one of my earlier stories, Impossible, which was taken down to be re-edited. I've noticed that there's a story published now called 'What I'm Trying To Say' which also shows Dylan as a self-harmer, and I didn't want it to come across like I was stealing the plot from that story (which is brilliant and well worth checking out). This is something I've been working on for a long time, and the similarities are purely coincidental.**

* * *

_I remember, years ago_

_Someone told me I should take_

_Caution when it comes to love_

_I did, I did..._

* * *

Evan was good at making promises. He just wasn't so good at keeping them. The night after Brooke's funeral, he had stared at the sky and promised that he wouldn't let himself fall in love again. Her death had destroyed him, but that didn't mean his heart couldn't still belong to her. Whilst his memories kept her alive, she stayed with him, and for as long as there was breath in his body, she was the only one who would ever know his love.

To fall for someone else would be betraying her memory, and he was nothing if not loyal. He refused to move on, to let her go, because he wanted her near to him, needed the security of her presence. Brooke wasn't dead, not really. She couldn't be. Six years on, and still in denial.

There was only one person he could talk to, one person who would listen and understand. Ange smiled and said all the right things, she told him she understood and the pain would leave with time. Both of them knew she was lying, but it was easier to pretend, if only for a little while. Nobody could understand what he'd been through, although Ange saw his suffering clearer than most did, but somehow she still managed to temporarily ease the flow of tears.

She had been there for him since the beginning, so it was inevitable, really, that their relationship would start to develop. They bonded through their shared grief, and it scared him. He took a step back, not ready to face the world alone but left without a choice. What was happening between him and Ange couldn't amount to anything. All it could ever be was a mirage. He denied the obvious and carried on living.

His excuse to himself was that he craved love. People called love a drug, didn't they? And he was convinced that Brooke had taken his capacity for love with her to the grave, leaving him with an empty heart. That was what had drawn him to Ange, the need for soft caresses and gentle words, everything he couldn't have because of one simple promise.

Over time, his dependence on her lessened, proving his point and strengthening his resolve. He would be fine on his own. He would get over it, just like he always did. He would put his head down and carry on and leave the pain behind. Ange had been an outlet for his tears, a weakness and nothing more. He figured for as long as he kept on telling himself that, he might actually believe it.

* * *

_...And you were strong, and I was not_

_My illusion, my mistake_

_I was careless, I forgot_

_I did..._

* * *

By the time Dylan joined the team, he had restored some semblance of normality to his life. On the outside, at least, he was fine; things were getting better, although inside he was still torn, bruised and bleeding. So many lives had been saved thanks to Brooke's death, and that helped him to hold his head high and grit his teeth in a smile.

He wasn't alone anymore; he had something to live for and, finally, a reason to laugh. That was something to be grateful for, right? He was surrounded by people who cared about him, Mac and Toby and Ange and...and Dylan. That was where things started unravelling again, the point where things started going wrong. He found himself falling again.

It wasn't the same. With Ange, it had been a mutual desperation for comfort, drenched in blood, sweat and tears, two grieving people slowly healing each other. Dylan wasn't like that; she was strong, independent, the polar opposite to Ange. Maybe that was what had attracted him to her in the first place. She was a fighter, capable of holding her own against most others, although at the same time she was compassionate and gentle with her own secrets to hide. Somehow she had come along and succeeded where everybody else had failed. She had found the key and opened his heart, leaving him drowning in the remnants of his broken promise.

The day his feelings became too strong to deny was the day the haunting began. Every time he looked at Dylan, Brooke was standing beside her, as real and solid as if she was still alive and breathing. Her face would always be reproachful, wounded, stabbing guilt into his body as she shook her head tearfully and asked questions that nobody else could hear.

"I'm still here, Evan, I never really left. Surely our marriage counts for something, doesn't it?"

"Is she worth that much to you, enough for you to just...forget me?"

"Do you remember my ring, the day you gave it to me? You promised you'd love me forever. Had you forgotten, or is forever really that short?"

"You promised that you'd never fall in love again, and I really believed that you were strong enough to keep that promise. Are you going to prove me wrong?"

"Evan, I thought you loved me, I really did. Were those just lies?"

Then Dylan would smile and ask if he was alright, and Brooke would fade away, and Evan was left lost again and torn between two worlds. Secretly he wondered if he was going crazy, just seeing things, but her presence was so real, the anguish on her face wrenching at his heart. He didn't believe in ghosts, but he was living with the evidence.

Evan knew in his heart he couldn't go on like this for much longer. The burden was too heavy for him to carry alone; he was tense and tied up with secrets. Soon, the knots would break, and everything was going to unravel in front of him. It was inevitable. Something had to give.

* * *

_...And now when all is done_

_There is nothing to say_

_You have gone, and so effortlessly_

_You have won_

_You can go ahead, tell them..._

* * *

When it all finally came undone, Evan was left with his head in his hands and his heart shattered over the floor. Tormented by the ghost he couldn't leave behind, the constant, unrelenting guilt and the struggles to override his emotions, he finally snapped.

It had been a long, hard day. Thirteen people had died, mauled to death with their broken bodies strewn across the floor like litter, worthless. Three of those thirteen had been killed right in front of him; he'd been forced to watch the creatures tearing into flesh and hear those terrible, inhuman screams. Not the screams of the people, those had stopped after the first few frozen seconds, but screams of pleasure from the predators, screams of hunger and triumph.

All he wanted was to be left alone in the darkness. All he needed was to drift into oblivion for a few soothing hours, but Dylan had arrived and tried to talk to him. It was silly, really, that something so trivial had turned into an argument that threatened to tear their friendship apart. He couldn't even remember what she had been talking about.

He had turned on her, out of the blue, a response that had become almost instinctive when dealing with Ange. She would always just shrug and turn away, leaving him to calm down and forgetting, or at least forgiving, his actions by the next morning. Dylan wasn't Ange, and so she retaliated. Things had escalated quickly, both of them releasing a day's worth of stress and fury, becoming a shouting match. Insults were hurled both ways, verbal sparring between two equally matched partners.

Then Evan, in a blaze of anger, had hit her in her most vulnerable spot. In an unforgivable move, he had turned what he knew about her traumatic childhood against her, without stopping to think about the consequences of his words.

"You're a bloody deranged self-harmer! You have no right to lecture _me _about anything!"

Following that, there was a moment of drawn-out silence. Dylan's face had gone pale as she stared at him in shock, unable to believe what he'd just said. There was no pain; it was impossible to tell what she was thinking as she slowly shook her head.

"No. No, I'm not. Not anymore,"

Her eyes were bright with tears as she left the room, slamming the door behind her, and those words lingered in the room. An echo. The sound of a car starting outside only twisted the knife further into his gut; she was leaving. Somehow the hum of tires over tarmac fading into the distance held with it a desolate air of finality.

His legs gave way under him and he sank onto the sofa, knowing that Brooke had finally got what she wanted, pushed him over the edge and wrecked any chance of a relationship between him and Dylan.

"Are you happy now?" he asked out loud, not caring who overheard him. "You've won. Are you happy?"

He was certain he heard Brooke's voice, laced with both admonishment and pity, so loud in the sudden silence. "It had to be done, Evan,"

"No it didn't. It really didn't," the words came out as barely more than a throaty whisper, and if Brooke heard them, she didn't let on. He let out a choked sob, certain now that the ghost had gone. What was it stopping him from letting go, from moving on? All he wanted was to make things right.

He was alone, and it hurt. Really, it was ironic that he had spent most of his life essentially playing with time, and yet he couldn't turn back the clock just a few minutes, hours, days, to erase his regrets.

* * *

_...Tell them all I know now_

_Shout it from the rooftops_

_Write it on the skyline_

_All we had is gone now..._

* * *

No matter how much he tried to isolate himself from the rest of the team, there was no avoiding them when the next anomaly alert sounded. Although Mac drove in his motorbike, Toby climbed in next to Evan and spent the entire journey ranting at him for being a 'heartless bastard'. Evan wholeheartedly agreed with her.

Dylan sat in the back, tense and unmoving, staring out of the window and steadfastly ignoring their rather one-sided conversation.

"Did you know she's spent the last few days crying because of what you said to her? And you don't even have the guts to apologise! Typical man,"

That was what Toby said, but she didn't have Brooke standing by her side, controlling her, haunting her, forcing her to drive away the people she loved most. She didn't know what Evan had to put up with, didn't know how he suffered, every day. He was sick of this, sick of the guilt and the pressure which he just didn't know how to handle.

"Oh, for god's sake, Toby, will you just leave it? It's not my bloody problem, what do you want me to do about it? I wasn't the one holding a knife to her wrists!"

Toby visibly flinched at his words, and instantly he felt the remorse flooding him again. What was the point of taking the words back? It wouldn't help. He had screwed up, big time, and there was nothing he could do. Everything was spiralling out of control. His head hurt. His heart hurt.

A single tear ran down Dylan's face. He resisted the urge to wipe it away.

* * *

_...Tell them I was happy_

_And my heart is broken_

_And all my scars are open_

_Tell them what I hoped would be..._

* * *

At the site itself, he had ended up almost completely ignored. Dylan had walked up to Mac and quietly asked him to come with her and check the area for creatures. Mac glanced over at Evan, trying to mask the gesture a moment too late, before he left, one arm around her shoulders. Although he knew it was just an act of comfort, he couldn't help a sharp stab of jealousy.

So this was his life now. Shunned. Hidden. A liar. And he only had himself to blame.

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible_

_Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

The anomaly wasn't hard to find, just a mile of walking across open land. Standing there in front of it, watching the glass-like fragments catch the light, was hypnotic. He wondered what lay on the other side, what untouched, incredible prehistoric landscape rested beyond the shards.

It was so tempting, just to step through it, to leave behind his worries and troubles and become...free. So hard to turn and walk away, but he had to do it. Worries had a habit of following you wherever you went, and despite all he'd lost already, there was still too much left to lose.

The past wouldn't heal his smarting scars. The wilderness might be perfect, awe-inspiring, untainted, but it couldn't help him now. The scars which Brooke had cut and Dylan had torn open gaped wide, gushing blood, leaving him susceptible. To leave behind all he'd grown to love would kill him.

* * *

_...Falling out of love is hard_

_Falling for betrayal is worst_

_Broken hearts and broken trust_

_I know, I know..._

* * *

It was Ange, the one who he could count on to stay by his side, who brought him the answer. It always was. The only problem was, she answered the wrong question. She told him that it hadn't been Brooke talking to him. All those times he'd seen her, it had been his mind trying to twist his battered emotions, trying to find an excuse to keep him from falling in love.

"I knew Brooke, remember? She wasn't like that. She wasn't bitter, or jealous, you know she wasn't. This is you, your mind, it's all in your head. You're scared of letting her go, but the truth is, Evan, you already have,"

* * *

_...Thinking all you need is there_

_Building faith on love and words_

_Empty promises will wear_

_I know..._

* * *

His promise, the one he had built himself up around, had been nothing more than words. For everything and nothing, he had thrown his life away. Whilst his love for Brooke would never die, stretched across the miles between life and death, that couldn't keep him from falling once more. He had bound himself to a promise, a promise that, in the end, he couldn't keep.

* * *

_...And now, when all is done_

_There is nothing to say_

_And if you're done with embarrassing me_

_On your own you can go ahead, tell them..._

* * *

The more he came apart, the harder it became to fight. What had at first seemed like an easy battle became tougher by the minute. It took all his nerve and energy to keep on going, to keep breathing, walking, living.

* * *

_...Tell them all I know now_

_Shout it from the rooftops_

_Write it on the skyline_

_All we had is gone now..._

* * *

He needed to apologise, that much had been made clear. That was where his problems fell. He tried approaching her, tentative to say the least, but it was instantly obvious she wasn't ready for an apology. Although she didn't speak, her eyes told him exactly what she was thinking. They said "Haven't you done enough?"

It wasn't the right time, not yet. He had hurt her badly, and she had nothing to say to him. In time, maybe she would be able to forgive him, but something between them had broken. Not a clean break, but shattered into a million pieces, and only time and care would bring them back together.

Giving up wasn't an option. All he needed to do was to give her some space to heal before he tried again. It sounded so simple, but patience had never been his strong point, and something told him it would be a lot harder in reality. He didn't greatly care. Their relationship was worth fighting for. It had to be.

* * *

_...Tell them I was happy_

_And my heart is broken_

_And all my scars are open_

_Tell them what I hoped would be..._

* * *

Surely there had to be some way of making things right, pulling everything back together. Somewhere, somehow, it was there. He just hadn't found it yet. It had been a month, and every time he tried to come out with those two little words, just a simple "I'm sorry,", they died in his throat. For every reason he thought up, everything that told him he should just go ahead and do it, there was a counter-argument telling him to leave it alone. Telling him she was better off without him.

He couldn't bear seeing her hurt by his distance.

He didn't want to hurt her any more than he had done already.

He was irrevocably in love with her.

He had said the same thing about Brooke, and look how that turned out.

He wanted to be the one to wipe away her tears.

He was the cause of those tears in the first place.

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

It didn't take long for new worries to begin setting in. One thing he knew was that, despite her outward strength, Dylan was sensitive, especially when it came to her past, and although her files said she had recovered, Evan had his suspicions. He just didn't know what to do about them. The files could only tell you so much.

What was it he'd said to Toby? It wasn't his problem, and it hadn't been him holding a knife to her wrist. Well, he had been wrong on both counts, because he couldn't ignore it now, and whilst he wasn't physically forcing her to cut herself, what if his words had driven her over the edge again?

He couldn't bear living with the knowledge that his temper might have triggered her problems. He couldn't bear knowing that she might be in pain, and it was all his fault. Since the thought had lodged itself in his mind, it had refused to leave. He didn't know what was happening, and it was hard, so hard. All he really knew was the fear in her eyes made his breath catch, his heart race.

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

Everything seemed to explode in his head as she fell backwards. A gunshot rang out, a shot he couldn't remember firing. The dinosaur collapsed. He barely registered the movement. He was more concerned about Dylan, leaning against a tree, breathing hard and clutching her arm.

For a moment it was almost like the past month had never happened. For a moment, he had travelled back in time and altered the past and changed the future.

Then her eyes became guarded, and she pulled away from him. "I'm fine, Evan,"

But she clearly wasn't fine, because there was a small stain appearing on her sleeve, bright red. Blood red.

"No, you're not,"

Maybe a month ago she would have been more willing to let him look after her, but now she was already gritting her teeth and turning away. Everything had changed, it was all so different now, and he was scared, so scared. Slowly, she was fading, and he couldn't let that happen. She'd always been so bright, so alive. Never dark. Not like this.

"Dylan, let me look," he tried again, but she didn't respond. Instinctively he reached out to touch her injured arm, and the way she reacted chilled his heart. Something wasn't right. Her movements were so urgent, so defensive...he had a terrible feeling he already knew exactly what she was trying to hide.

In a frenzy of worry, he grabbed her arm and pulled her sleeve up, more roughly than he'd intended. The injury itself was no more than a graze, but that wasn't what he was looking at. It was the deep grooves and lacerations scored across her skin that transfixed his stare.

Angrily, she pushed him away, furious defiance written across her features. Tears shimmered across her eyes, but they were angry tears, desperate tears.

"Just leave it! Just leave me alone, okay?"

It wasn't okay. In fact, it was so not okay that Evan didn't know where to start. By the time he had gathered his thoughts together, it was too late. She had left.

He was alone.

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

Every day he saw her frightened eyes, her resignation, her heartbreak, and knew it was all his fault. How could he live with himself, knowing what he was doing to her? Slowly, it was tearing him to pieces. He forced himself to keep her secret, however much it hurt, however much of a struggle it became. It was the least he could do.

Dylan pretended nothing had happened, acted like those few seconds had never happened. She was believing a lie. Evan wanted to believe it too, but there was no way he could forget what he had seen. No magical undo button to extinguish the flaming marks burning into her arm.

He had done this. It was his fault. His problem. More regret. More weight. More blame to carry. Another star to waste a wish on. Another moon to waste away. What was the point of picking up the pieces if they were always going to end up shattered again?

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

He had to do something. He had tried to take back his words, and she hadn't listened. This was different. He couldn't stand back and watch her fade away. She was his constant, the one thing keeping him sane in this crazy, crazy world. He loved her, in every sense of the word. Without her, he would be nothing. They were a team.

Ange had always been there for him, an outlet for his sorrow, and she promised that she would do anything for him. Now, when he needed those words the most, there was nothing she could do. It had been his words that started all of this, and it had to be his words that finished it.

Amazing, really, the effect a few thoughtless sentences could have. Lives could be ruined. Friendships torn apart. It would take a lot more than a few words to heal their bond, but he could do it. He would do it, no matter what it took. He would see this through if it killed him.

* * *

_...I remember, years ago_

_Someone told me I should take_

_Caution when it comes to love_

_I did..._

* * *

Once upon a time he had told himself to be cautious around love. Love could do terrible things to a person. People died for love. It brought nothing, just hurt and heartache. Now those words lay all but forgotten. Caution counted for nothing in situations like this. What was the point in being cautious, anyway? Surely the phrase 'throwing caution to the wind' had been invented for a reason.

It was just another word for cowardice.

He wasn't a coward. He was going to be brave. For once, he was going to forget the consequences of his actions and do what he had to do. Dylan had once told him 'not everything waits for tomorrow'. Well, he was done waiting. Tomorrow wasn't guaranteed.

Years ago, Brooke had died, and whilst part of him had died with her, the rest of him alive and breathing and moving. There was blood in his body and love in his heart. He would survive.

He would survive.

* * *

_...Tell them all I know now_

_Shout it from the rooftops_

_Write it on the skyline_

_All we had is gone now..._

* * *

The time had come to take back what he had lost. He was going to seize hold of tomorrow with both hands and run with it, before tomorrow just...wasn't there anymore.

* * *

_...Tell them I was happy_

_And my heart is broken_

_And all my scars are open_

_Tell them what I hoped would be..._

* * *

"Dylan, please listen to me. I have to tell you something,"

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

She turned around, so serious, so beautiful, moonlight spilling over her face. For a moment, her eyes were soft, even loving, made nervous by doubt. Then she nodded, choked with tears.

"Right,"

His mind had gone blank; he had forgotten what he was going to say. She had caught him off-guard, just like always.

"Look, we both know what's going on here,"

She tipped her head to the side, considering. "Do we?"

A wave of anger rushed over him, and he tried to fight it off. Shouting would only make things worse.

"How long were you planning on pretending this wasn't happening?"

There was no response.

"You need help. It's not your fault. Please, let me help you,"

"Why are you so determined to help? You said it yourself; it's not your problem, so why can't you stay out of it?"

"Because it's killing me, watching you do this to yourself. Because I can't just stand back and let this happen anymore. Because..."

He trailed off, hoping that Dylan wouldn't notice.

She did.

"Because what?"

In all honesty, he didn't know what to say.

"Because...Because I'm sorry,"

It was a cop-out, and he knew it, but he also knew Dylan wasn't ready to deal with the alternative. Inwardly, however, both his heart and mind were singing.

_Because I've fallen in love with you._

Six years of secrets had taught him when to keep his mouth shut, if nothing else.

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

She looked at him intently, as though trying to work out if she could trust him again. He found himself exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding as she nodded slightly, a faint, broken smile playing at her lips.

"Okay,"

Okay? That was it? Two months of tension and pain and tears and blood for one small word? Okay. Okay. It wasn't okay. It was still very far from okay. An improvement, perhaps, on the last time he'd thought that, but still. They weren't out of the darkness yet.

"That's the thing. It's not okay,"

"Is it ever okay?"

The reply was so swift, so bitter, Evan almost flinched. And yet she had a point. Death, on the scale they witnessed every day, wasn't okay.

This was bigger than death, bigger than the anomalies. This was him and her, emotion and heartbreak, healing and tentative first steps into the unknown.

"No, maybe not," he admitted softly. He wasn't entirely sure who he was admitting it to, but it helped nonetheless to have the words out there. It was a refreshing kind of honesty he'd been missing for a while.

"But that doesn't change anything. The problem's still there, Dylan,"

She was still defensive. "You have your own problems. I can handle mine,"

"That doesn't mean you should,"

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

Dylan sighed. "Please, Evan. Just leave it,"

He couldn't. He was in this too deep to walk away. Part of this, at least, was his fault, and so he was determined to fix it somehow. "I'm not going to leave it,"

"I don't need your help. You've done too much already,"

Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to turn away, but he fought it with everything he had. Gently, he took her wrist in his hand and moved her sleeve up her arm; she didn't pull away but her whole body was tense and unwilling. She watched him like a frightened animal, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.

"This isn't right. What you're doing isn't right. You're hurting me as well, you know. I don't know what to do, but I can't walk away and leave you like this," gently, he rubbed his thumb over the cuts, being careful not to press too hard. He didn't want to cause her any more pain.

"You don't understand,"

* * *

_...Impossible, impossible..._

* * *

He began to trace the scars with his fingers. "Then help me to, Dylan. Stop shutting me out, and help me understand,"

A slight blush stained her cheeks and she looked away. "I can't. Not yet. I will, I promise,"

With a sad smile, he let her sleeve drop and took her hand instead. "Take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere,"

The corner of her mouth quirked up, but tears still sparkled in her eyes. "Thanks. I'm sorry, Evan, I really am,"

One tear began to fall down her cheek. Evan brushed it away, his hand lingering against her skin for a few seconds. "Don't cry," he spoke softly, his voice carrying in the silent evening air.

Then he leaned in and kissed her, very briefly, but the storm of emotion behind it was still there and still painfully strong. He waited with trepidation for the inevitable, expecting her to turn around and walk away, but she didn't. Everything but his heart was telling him that this was a mistake. Evan didn't normally listen to his heart; it had been the cause of all the hurt in his life.

He found it more convenient to forget that his heart had also been the cause of most of his happiness.

Dylan was watching him thoughtfully. "What did you do that for?"

* * *

_...I remember, years ago_

_Someone told me I should take_

_Caution when it comes to love_

_I did_

* * *

"I'd tell you, but I think you already know,"

As he said those words, he could have sworn he saw a figure appear in the shadows. Brooke. He waited, tense, for her to say something, for her to ruin the life he'd just managed to pull back together, but she didn't. With one last backwards glance, she walked away. Evan let her go, without so much as a goodbye.

She wasn't coming back, he was as certain as he could possibly be on that point, at least. Brooke had left, for good this time. The haunting was over. The ghost was gone. Evan didn't greatly care. He had grieved for so long, so many years wasted, and now he was finally ready to move on.

This was his life. This was his future, the future he wanted, he was sure of it now. He was strong again. He was standing. The past was back where it belonged.

The problem with the anomalies was that they anchored you to the past. There was no escaping it. There never was. When you spend your life dabbling with time itself, the past refuses to stay where it belongs. It's always there, on your heels. You can't hide from it.

But when you have love to keep you flying high and a future left to live for, maybe, just maybe...that's alright.


End file.
